


i've got this feeling that there's something (that i missed)

by fuscience



Series: five times i've loved you [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Get through the first part, because its the second that satisfies the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four time Oliver kisses someone else, and five times he kisses Felicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Only Know You Love Her When You Let Her Go

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry! I spent an enjoyable Christmas in New York with family and a drunken New Year’s week in Texas with some friends. Still not over the hangover so, writing was slow. I think I’ve found that I’m no good at writing from Felicity’s point of view so forgive those portions. Also, it physically hurt me to write the Isabel Rochev section and not in a good way, in a I-don’t-like-this-but-it’s-not-getting-any-better-no-matter-how-much-I-tweak-it way. So forgive that too. And forewarning, changes to canon for sake of story. Part one contains the four times Oliver kisses someone else and a part two will be up with the five times he kisses Felicity. Hope you enjoy! Ahead. Much good. Very Olicity.

 

 

1\. Isabel Rochev

 

 When Isabel walks into the office less than an hour before Felicity clocks out it solidifies her belief that becoming a part of Oliver’s personal vendetta is not good for her emotional health. 

“Don’t strain yourself, I’m just here to speak to Mr. Queen about the quarterly reports.”  Isabel looks evenly at her, bland and unflinching. Felicity startles and realizes there was a question and she missed it.

“I’m sure you could take tonight off if you’re not feeling well - Mr. Queen has several other options anyway.” Isabel smiles in a way that is both polite and tormenting before sweeping through the glass doors of the CEO’s office.

Oliver’s personal activities are always a sensitive subject for Felicity. She despises the dichotomy between how intimate their relationship is and how many lies they tell to cover up that same relationship - make her and Oliver stereotyped versions of themselves, the secretary and the CEO. People bleed judgement around her. Watching Isabel circle around the desk, moving closer to Oliver, makes Felicity want to burn a hole in Isabel's head or stick a hot poker through her own eyes. Felicity has tried to let Russia stay in Russia, but Isabel seems to be carrying it around like a prized Prada bag - showing it off to the poor underlings - her - who could never afford one. It is sudden but, Felicity finds her vision clouded with fury, angry tears prickling at the edge of her field of vision. She is not deaf to the rumors that float around after a sudden promotion. Felicity dealt with that, like she dealt with the late nights and the lying - it was a part of being friends with the Vigilante, when the whole is bigger than the sum of its parts.

Now, all she can see is the curl of Isabel’s lips, nasty and unapologetic, and the way Isabel looks at Felicity like she’s something to wipe off the bottom of her four inch designer heels. Bullies are nothing new for Felicity, she can remember the feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, the drive to be someone people would befriend instead of a simple punchline. Felicity has become an expert at cool anger, is able to find a calmness within her that let’s her proceed evenly and steady through her daytime job.

Oliver is guiding Isabel through the glass doors and with a terse goodbye the dark shadow that is Stellmore International’s Vice President disappears as quickly as she came. Felicity jerks shakily up to leave for the day, but Oliver comes over to her desk and extends his hand to stop her from moving away. He knows how upset Isabel makes her, can recognize how intensely agitated she becomes. The moment his fingertips touch her Felicity spins on him in fury, tears of anger spring unbidden into her eyes once again.

But she finds herself speechless, fearing that whatever words she flung out about Isabel would be misconstrued as jealousy. Then again, every time Isabel steps into the room now, Felicity finds a darker part of herself tugging up unpleasant emotions like jealousy. Felicity is still so bitter that he chose to, literally and metaphorically, climb into bed with the one woman who enjoys making everybody miserable. It hurts in a deep, haunting kind of way that makes her doubt Oliver. Felicity hates that more than anything.

She shakes her head in disbelief, eyes downcast, angry at Oliver, ashamed that she’s so angry, and disappointed that she can’t voice how much betrayal she feels over this. It did mean something. Even if it didn’t mean anything to Oliver, it meant something to Felicity and it certainly meant something to Isabel Rochev. She wishes she could regain the composure she managed to carry throughout Russia, when she could keep her voice calm and her emotions under control - she thought stilted disgust and anger served her much better than this wave of emotion that was drowning her at the moment.

Oliver looks at her helpless and she’s trying so hard to reconcile the man who flies halfway across the world to help a friend with the one that sleeps with the woman attempting to destroy his entire family legacy.

“I’m sorry about - “

“ _Don’t_.” Felicity holds up a hand stopping him. “Just. Don’t apologize for her Oliver.”

Felicity thinks of the tiny smirk Isabel allowed to crawl over her face, leering and suggestive, thinks of the unzipped back of the slinky cocktail dress, all the implications about what Oliver and Isabel had been doing that night in Russia. But it’s not Isabel she’s mad at - not that Isabel doesn’t antagonize her - but she always expects the worse from Isabel. Felicity always expects so much _more_ from Oliver.

 

II. Laurel Lance

 

The first time Oliver kisses Laurel is in the backseat of a limo, coming home from her graduation party. Oliver is extremely happy and so is Laurel.

The last time Oliver kisses Laurel it is in a graveyard, watching tears run down her cheeks. Oliver is crying too and when he tastes the salt on their lips he does not know whom it belongs to.

Somewhere in between their first and last kiss, there is a kiss that they regret. And Oliver thinks that just about sums up their relationship.

 

III. Helena Bertinelli

 

Felicity stumbles a little bit when she walks in on Oliver helping Helena with a bow. It is a very intimate moment she realizes, although she questions whether Helena understands the significance of Oliver passing along his skills, whether she understands the deep symbolism there.

Oliver greets her and nods and Helena gives Felicity a quiet smile. When Helena smiles it is not mean or malicious, but it is broken, like there was a light that somehow got turned off or smothered and is no longer there. Felicity thinks it was probably brilliant a few years ago. Helena moves with grace that is unfamiliar to Felicity, she moves silently across the floor, but you are always aware of her presence - muted and slightly manic. Something uncomfortable twists in Felicity’s gut when she watches them - how familiar and similar they are - and it grips her heart. Oliver is not healthy for her - he gives her lies and secrets, fear and panic, and so many unhappy stories. But, she thinks silently, Oliver gives her purpose and, most important of all, trust. What little faith Oliver still has left after the Island he partitions some out for her and that means so much. The significance never escapes Felicity, she understands that Oliver doesn’t have a lot to give and is a better person knowing him.

Helena begins to climb the stairs and Oliver leans down to kiss her on the cheek as she goes. Felicity turns away, but can still catch the reflection of the two in her computer screens. Her chest hurts again and a fire, different from the one she gets when Oliver’s shirtless and more like indigestion, burns it’s way through her.

She doesn’t know it yet, but, hours later, when Oliver finds her, wrists rubbed raw from the twist ties, glasses skewed, and he brings a hand to her face, fingers light and surprisingly gentle, Felicity begins to understand.

‘This might be love,’ She thinks hesitantly, but it doesn’t stop the pain.

 

IV. Thea

 

“Say goodnight to me Ollie!” Thea yells, grabbing his hand and swinging, brunette curls bouncing in short waves around her head. Oliver swipes his blonde hair away from his face and grins down at the only girl he loves. She is ten years old and the light of Ollie’s life. He can party all night, have hangovers that last for days, but he always finds time for Thea. Oliver is a horrible boyfriend, a terrible student, and not that good of an overall person, but for her he is a wonderful brother and Thea adores him for it. With Thea, Oliver feels very light. The expectations she places on him are simple - come home, play, make her smile. Oliver is very good at making people smile.

Thea is already climbing into bed when he enters, toothpaste outlining her mouth and a wide grin plastered onto her face.

“Hey Ollie. Make up one of your stupid stories.”

“Language, Thea.” Oliver closes the door behind him, slipping into the tastefully yellow room. He grabs the roller chair from Thea’s desk and sits down backwards. Taking a look at ther face he pulls out a tissue, licks it, and wipes the toothpaste off her face.

“No stories tonight Speedy, but I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” She pouts, sticking out her upper lip, but obediently lays her head down. Oliver runs his hand through his hair and then begins to pat Thea’s back. The steady thump of his hand lulls her to sleep in minutes until there is nothing but quiet breathing filling the room.

Oliver sits there for a bit, watching the quiet rise and fall of his baby sister’s chest. He doesn’t move, doesn’t think, and just enjoys the silence for a moment - it isn’t common in his life. The ringing of his phone jerks Oliver up and he reaches for the cell - it’s Tommy. Quickly, he leans over the bed and kisses Thea on the forehead before leaving. She doesn’t stir.


	2. Don't Let Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the better half of this story! Enjoy the cliched New Year's ending - it's only 7 days late.

 

V. Lips

 

They are alone in front of her doorway when it happens. Felicity presses up on her toes to place a chaste kiss on the cheek when Oliver moves just enough so it lands on the corner of his lips.

It is late and Oliver has walked Felicity to her door for weeks now, abandoning his private brooding time in the lair in order to accompany her safely home. The feel of Felicity’s lips on his cheek is smooth, cool, with no expectation - merely a promise that everything is alright for tonight. He has come to enjoy the dry scrape of lips on rough stubble, the calmness that claims him when she is so close. He can smell the stale perfume on her neck and feel how her blonde hair curls close to his shoulder. Sometimes she leaves a lipstick stain on the side of his face, and, occasionally, she’ll reach up, smiling, to rub it off, other times it will go unnoticed. Oliver will be undressing for bed and look in the mirror to find a line of Impatient Pink or Burgundy Wine marked where her lips touched him. They’ve never done anything more, anything less, in the routine.

The touch surprises her and Felicity draws away enough so that they are no longer skin to skin, but there is still that lingering heat between them. His eyes catch hers, wide like a deer struck by headlights. Felicity releases steady, even breaths through Romance Red lips. He is not so calm, his chest heaves and jerks, slightly uneven, and the oxygen burns and freezes in his throat.

Oliver stares at her lips and thinks about moving forward, crossing the inch of space and quenching the horrible pain in his chest. But Felicity clears her throat and takes a large step backwards.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Oliver.” She quirks one side of her lips up into a weak, crooked smile, begging him to leave. He gazes despondently at her, unable or unwilling to tear his gaze from her. When Felicity’s door closes in his face Oliver is finally aware it’s time to go. And so he does.

 

IV. Head

 

Felicity is so incredibly sick. Her entire body shudders with the exertion of keeping herself alive, the ticking clock on her body slows and stalls, then stutters to life again. This is not a natural type of sickness. Poison spreads through her body and everything turns black.

Oliver leans over and lays a long kiss on her hot forehead, the contact stings. She is burning and he can’t save her and _**oh** if that isn’t the story of his life_ \- for all the people he saves it is the ones closest to him that go up in flames. Oliver wonders if he isn’t the poison.

He holds her hand, anchoring her to the world of the living, sending out desperate promises to exchange - every breath of his, every heartbeat of his, for hers. If Felicity dies, Oliver does not know how he will ever recover.

His head falls gently to her chest , and he lets his thumb trace her pulse point, counting the slow sound of her heart.

 

_Thump, Thump… Thump Thump_

  
  


III. Fingers

 

Felicity sobs into her hands uncontrollably, mouth trembling and gaping, gasping for air. The guilt hits her so hard that she shakes with the effort to release her tears. On the television screen, she watches the body count continue to climb, replaying the scene of the Glades falling over and over, cutting to pictures of people running, escaping, dying, dead. Names begin to scroll across the bottom, a ticker tape of morbidity, and, as is her nervous habit, Felicity begins to count.

_One… Two… Three…_

These are the things that will haunt her.

* * *

 

Months and months later, when the pieces seem to be falling back into place, when a rhythm has been reestablished, Felicity finds herself happy. Until, of course, she’s not.

He’s from the glades and he’s twelve years old - two months short of thirteen and all the wonderful things that accompany puberty. Until, of course, he walks into a convenience store, pulls out a .45, and is shot to death by the cashier. Felicity, curled into a tiny ball near the back, watches it happen and can’t move. When there is energy enough to finally stagger away from the scene, from the cops, and the shock blankets, and the red, red, red, blood, Felicity finds her way back to Verdant.

Oliver finds her there, hunched over the computer screens in the depths of the club, the soft glow giving her an ethereal quality from behind. One day, he thinks, he will open the door, walk down the stairs, and find her gone forever, disappearing like all good things do. Oliver sees her shoulders shake, tremble and he freezes on the steps. Her body quivers and stills, alternating between uncontrollable movement and impossible calm. He recognizes the pattern, has replayed the motion for the past six years, for every trauma, every nightmare - it is the oscillation of guilt and terror, of living when so many have died. Quietly, he treads towards her, then, knocks his hand on the table to alert her to his presence.

Felicity freezes at the noise, the fear and panic forcing her to quiet her body. Oliver creeps closer, to stand next to her chair, and glances at the screen. There is profile after profile up on the screen, hundreds in fact, many hidden behind the rest.

“What are those?” Oliver inquires softly.

He can feel the oxygen leave the room at his question and he doesn’t know why. Felicity softly hiccups, breathing out the last of her tears.

“503.” She croaks. Oliver knows that number by heart. It is engraved so deep in his skin that he will never be able to wash or burn it away.

“I. God. Oliver. If I’d figured out that there was a second device, everyone could’ve been saved. All those people.” Her voice is so quiet he can barely hear her, “There is an entire part of the city leveled because I couldn’t do my job.”

“Felicity, No. The undertaking was my respons - “

“ _No._ ” Her head jerks and she turns in her chair on him. Angry. This is her guilt, not his. “We all, Oliver, we all had our parts that night. You and Diggle took out Merlyn. I was supposed to find the device. I failed.”

Oliver knows that when he ran he abandoned everyone in order to coddle his own guilt, ignored other’s struggles in order to relish in his own. Oliver knows that he is selfish, what Oliver Queen wants he gets or he just does it himself. He also knows that Felicity holds him together most days and nights, but has never considered that she is tearing at the seams as well, ripped and frayed. He wants to hold her together now.

“Felicity.” He implores, “Felicity.”

She grieves and moans, hiccuping tiny cries against her hand, unable or unwilling to lift her head, Oliver lets his hands frame her face, forcing her up to meet his eyes. There are tears streaming down her cheeks in tiny rivulets, deep canyons of grief, and Felicity is both deep red and pale white, splotchy with pain. When she is steady, Oliver lets his thumbs trace the wet path down her skin before cautiously clasping her hands.

He makes sure her eyes stay open, that she looks at him as he kisses each of her fingers, slowly and softly, “Beautiful, brilliant fingers that save everyone, save me so many times.” Oliver whispers, “Hands.” He brings her palms to his mouth for a chaste kiss. “Strong, impossibly brave hands that somehow keep us whole. You do so much.” Felicity shakily watches him, watches him embrace her hands and speak all the words she wants to believe, and swallows deeply. Her eyes soften.

“Well if we’re going with that, my mouth does a lot of saving too.” Felicity closes her eyes in frustration, lips pinched tightly, “and is apparently completely disconnected from the decent part of my brain.”

He laughs but doesn’t let go of her hands. Not yet.

  
  


II. Neck

 

Oliver stands outside the door keeping watch and Felicity continues to stare at the download and upload bars running on the screen of the computer. In and out they had said. It will be easy they had said. The guards are professional mall cops they had promised. The security cameras are up on other screens and Felicity can practically hear the stomp of combat boots approaching.

“Felicity. Oliver.” Diggle hisses over the comm. Over her shoulder, Felicity sees Oliver duck his head back into the room, frustration painted all over his face. His dress shirt is rumpled, with sleeves rolled up to the forearm. She wishes she had the time to admire.

“Felicity.” Oliver murmurs, “We’re out of time.”

“I’m done! I’m done!” Felicity grabs the drive, simultaneously pressing every power button she can find.

She stands and turns around, pushing the chair away. Oliver thinks she looks lovely in a deep blue dress, skin peeking out in all the right places. A bright pink lipstick connects the outline of her lips, he thinks his lips would look better on her, and then banishes that forbidden thought.

“Felicity. We’re out of time.” The victory painted on her face fades to confusion when he moves closer to her.

One of Oliver’s hand comes to rest on the side of her face, the other on her hip, his thumb dances on the edge of her cheekbone. When he looks at her lips Felicity freezes, knowing what is coming. Oliver pauses as well. A kiss, _their_ kiss, would be a point of no return for him. He doesn’t know if he could stop whatever it is they would start, but the decision is made and he leans down.

Felicity watches his head lower in slow motion, and then he is upon her. His lips kiss her eyes closed and she willingly lets the darkness engulf her. Oliver makes his way down, placing light butterfly kisses on her temple, her nose, her chin, before latching onto her neck. It lights a fire deep within her belly that digs in hard, claws reaching in and tearing her apart. He sucks and nips and her hands grab his head, grasping at the feathery bristle of his hair, pulling him closer. Felicity wants to tug him inside of her. Oliver wouldn’t mind. His hands grip the back of her thighs, feeling her squirm in his grip, and the satin of the dress slide back and forth over his knuckles.  He begins to trail lower down her neck, letting his tongue dip into the curve of her collarbone and she squeaks before melting and releasing a long moan. There is a clatter as he lifts her on to the table, shoving things aside, and Oliver hums against her skin in pleasure when she yanks on his hair. It is all Felicity can do to hold onto him and not lose herself.

The slam of door against wall breaks them apart and they quickly separate. A guard stands there, flashlight shining in their eyes. They are breathing far too fast and unsteady for the man to be mistaken about what the couple was doing mere seconds before he entered. Oliver doesn’t look at her and his face morphs into a cordial smile and light eyes that do not say I-just-had-an-intense-emotional-counter. Then again, Felicity thinks, maybe he didn’t.

The guard gives them a scathing glare, leading the two back through the many hallways to the main party. For the guard’s dignity and their own, the two parties strike an agreement that what the host doesn’t know, won’t hurt him - or potentially get the poor guy fired.

Oliver and Felicity share a look with a thousand meanings and among them there is a silent promise to never speak of what occurred.

  
  


I. Felicity

 

It is New Year’s eve and Felicity will be honest in that she hasn’t had a single drink tonight. She hasn’t touched the finger foods or the multiple flutes of champagne that drift by her - everything is a little gray and bland at the moment. This is not a very Happy New Years, despite the wonderful party the Queens have hosted. After several more minutes Felicity makes the astute decision to slip into an abandoned room down an unoccupied hallway, away from the ticking of the clock and the countdown that will lead to the thousands of unsurprising and inevitable kisses that accompany midnight.

“It’s nearly Midnight.” Oliver’s breath tickles the inside of her ear, and Felicity’s breath hitches in surprise.

“Oliver!” She yelps, turning around to face him.

“Hey.” He greets, eyes light and teasing. “What are you doing hiding down here?”

Felicity shrugs her shoulders and answers, “I wasn’t really in the mood.”

“It’s nearly midnight though.” He is right, they can hear the countdown beginning, loud, raucous shouts rumbling through the house. _Ten, nine, eight_. Oliver’s eyes become heavy and he catches her gaze, “You have to find someone to kiss.”

She thinks he means someone else - not him. Oliver wants her to go find a nice Queen Consolidated employee, or maybe one of the many businessman up above, and kiss them. Anyone but him because he considers himself the worst part of her life. Felicity wishes Oliver understood that he’s the best thing to ever bleed out in the backseat of her car.

“ _Five_.” She whispers to him, not breaking the eye contact between them.

He thinks she means kiss me. He would say Felicity has no idea what being with him means, remembering the long list of casualties he left in the path of destruction that is his life, but that would be wrong. Very few people, if any at all, know him more intimately than her.

 _“Four_ ” He hears the resignation in her voice and it hurts him on a physical level. She thinks he doesn’t want her, that he’s not holding himself back everytime he sees her, every time her voice carries through his office, or the club, or the many missions. Oliver doesn’t want to let her think that. He wants her to know that she is beautiful, brilliant, _remarkable_ and he needs her so much.

“ _Three..._ ” Oliver lets himself fall towards her, drawn in by an inescapable gravity that he really has no desire to fight.

“ _Two…_ ”

“One.” Oliver interrupts her countdown, pressing his lips to hers and it is as good as all of their fantasies. There is nothing elaborate about it though, just a simple lip to lip kiss, and it leaves them both breathless.

Oliver swallows, his adam’s apple bobs, and his lungs work double time to make sure he doesn’t pass out. He looks down again, and emotions, long buried, hit him like trainwreck.

“I want you.” The words leave him faint and shaky, like the admission is taking every ounce of willpower to escape his emotional walls. Felicity’s eyes widen and then her eyebrows bend downwards in confusion. She withdraws from him and he is cold all over.

“Oliver… I can’t.” Her throat closes on the words, “I can’t do this and then go back to normal tomorrow.”

Oliver finally brings his head up and looks her in the eye. His lips tilt softly, understanding her apprehension. He is not a poet, and words have never come easily around Felicity, he always seems to trip himself up.

“I don’t want normal.” He prays she understands, “I want you, everyday.”

Felicity stares at him, absorbing the words and all that they mean.

 

_He’s ready for this._

_He wants this._

_He wants her._

_He wants her for all the days after tonight, for everyday, forever._

 

The moment passes and she is surging up to meet him halfway into another, deeper, real kiss. It’s hot where he touches her, pulling her closer, and **wow** can his tongue do a thing. Felicity lets his hands wander, grabbing and pulling - hair, dress, hips - Oliver’s begging, pleading whispers melt away. _Stay, stay, stay,_  he asks. She answers with kisses of _forever, always, eternity_ , burning them into his skin until Oliver can feel it crack and peel, scraping away the scars and revealing such new skin beneath her lips.

Their mouths detach and hover over each over as he shrugs off his jacket frantically, her arms pushing it off his shoulders attempting to assist. They halt, oxygen mingling, breathing each other in and out and marveling at how close and far they are from each other. A moment that is both brief and eternal. Perfect. Mouths slip together again and his tongue traces her lips before slipping inside again. Felicity is practically vibrating at the sensation and Oliver lets his fingers continue to roam from her hair, to her arms, tracing her hips. Her own hands are firmly planted on the sides of his head, guiding him where she wants. It is all they can do to part for air before they are crashing back together. He hooks his arms underneath the back of her knees, pulling her off the ground so she can briefly wrap her legs around his waist before they collide into the edge of the room’s untouched bed

His fingers hook into her panties and Felicity inhales deeply, gasping, air stilling in her throat. Oliver pushes her dress up around her waist, silk fumbling beneath his hands. Her hands reach for his belt, undoing it with nervous movements and his pants fall to the floor - briefs Felicity ponders quickly before she watches Oliver’s head disappear between her legs.

It is not long before stars explode in her eyes, the stiff scrape of stubble on bare, sensitive flesh eliciting more than one stilted moan. Felicity draws his head back up afterwards and kisses him, tastes herself on him. They smile against each other’s lips before detaching and Oliver relaxes his forehead against hers. She drops a small kiss on his temple, tipping her head to the side and Oliver leans into the sensation. Slowly, cupping the sides of his head, she traces the hard lines of his face with her lips - dragging them across the wrinkles on his forehead, kissing his eyes closed, his nose, his chin - in a delightful parody of their last encounter. When she stops, he opens his eyes to look at her. Oliver is so far gone in that moment, so far in love with her that he could end everything here and stay locked in time with Felicity forever. They lean and fall onto the bed, laying on their sides, and enjoying the heat from each other. Felicity holds out her hand for him and Oliver takes it, crawling lightly towards her until they are pressed together at the seams as one. His hand is so much bigger than hers, all of him is so much larger, that he surrounds her. When they touch again it is a beginning.

This time they move more slowly and he kisses her everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to do one more piece for this series - five times theme so, five stories would be nice - but, I’m a little out of inspiration and I don’t want to end up beating the same ideas into the ground. So, the last piece might not be up until after the new episode has aired, unless anyone has any prompts or ideas that might spur me to action?

**Author's Note:**

> So, there’s a part two with all the Olicity! It will be up tomorrow, I just have a few more things to try and edit. Also, if anyone feels like commenting, how did the order work for y'all? I kept going back and forth on who I should put where in what order and ultimately just gave up. Hope someone likes this so far! Cheers!


End file.
